Dead Chaos - Book 1 - Zombie Apocalypse

Dead Chaos - Chapter 3

“Cover your eyes, mijitos!” screamed a very offended Paulina.

“Hey, you’re not my grandma,” argued Alexi, who was enthralled by what he saw. After all, not every resident of Eden was old and wrinkly.

I refused to look at my dad, afraid to see him also eyeing the voluptuous brunette who bounced around as if she were on a porn set. I was suddenly and guiltily happy that my boyfriend was too hurt to pay her any attention. Always surrounded by our friends and family, I knew our relationship wasn’t what it would’ve been had the world not ended. We were happy, though, and I never doubted his love.

Paulina smacked Alexi with all the force of her stout little frame. He laughed at first, but when she raised her hand again, he sure flinched. I hid my smile, not wanting to be scolded also. Justin was deliberate in his attempt not to watch the peepshow, but from the stiffness of his frame, the effort was murder on his teenage boy sensibilities. As if those two didn’t have dirty magazines stashed somewhere.

We walked into the lodge and found a very convincing military hospital ward; several people in wheelchairs and some patients in beds, looking too injured to move. Women I assumed were nurses from their attire, buzzed around in every direction. My eyes strayed to a closed door with the word Quarantine painted on it.

One of the nurses stopped long enough to bark orders. “Fish, put him in an empty bed, the doctor will make rounds in a minute.”

On the opposite side of the room was a man wearing a turquoise necklace, colorful billowing robes and a stethoscope. I wondered if he purposely grew out his hair and beard to look like Jesus. The brown leather sandals added just the right touch to his elegant messiah style. Someone needed to let him know that the apocalypse already happened and, with hell on earth, we were no longer in need of a prophet.

The doctor held a metal clipboard in his hand and it seemed a nurse was filling him in on the status of the wounded. He wore a pensive expression, nodding his head every few moments. The man didn’t exactly inspire confidence in me, looking like a rainbow Jesus. It was times like this I missed our former family pediatrician. I’d like to think that Dr. Amin had survived, possibly overseeing the healthcare in a settlement such as this one. Well, maybe not exactly like this one.

I asked myself why we brought my boyfriend to the shaman at the military-run swingers club, but it wasn’t like we had many options. Gathered around Kyle’s bed, we waited as the doctor moved from patient to patient.

Kyle looked up at me and smiled, trying to reassure me. He was pale and sweating profusely, so the smile didn’t work very well. I brushed his brown hair off his forehead, attempting to return his optimism with a smile of my own. My dad walked over a couple beds and started chatting with a bedridden man wearing an eye patch and gauze wrapped around his head. I squeezed Kyle’s hand and followed him, listening in on the conversation.

“What happened here?” asked my father, indicating the abundance of patients.

“We were attacked by raiders six days ago at dawn,” said the man wearily. “They rode into town and started firing without warning. We’re not violent people. They could’ve taken whatever they wanted without hurting anyone.”

“I’m so sorry. Where’d the new guards come from? They seem well-trained,” offered my father tactfully. I’d been wondering the same thing.

“The council voted and we sent an emissary to Colorado Springs. We needed protection and they came through for us. They get a percentage of our goods and we get peace of mind,” he explained with evident relief.

“Peace of mind, that’s the rarest of commodities nowadays,” my father mused.

“Do you remember me?” he asked both of us quietly. I did, a person didn’t meet many new faces anymore. We were talking to Coyote, the man who’d incurred my father’s anger the last time we were here.